Underneath the weirwood tree
by CaptainStaniel
Summary: After dreaming of a green eyed boy for months Bran finally meets him, although he's not at all what he's been expecting.
1. Chapter 1

_The fire in the hearth crackled and burned, heating the small homely room in an orange glow. Not that the two figures intertwined with each other on the bed needed the extra warmth. The two young men were still sweating, coming down from their post sex high still pressing kisses against each others skin, tasting sweat and dirt but it didn't matter. _

_Nimble fingers danced down Bran's side, tracing patterns into the smooth skin of his hip. Lips followed the fingers, kissing Bran's lips slowly, tasting them with his tongue, before moving down to his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Bran was out of breath by the time the kisses reached his hipbone. His fingers gripped the blond hair tight, lifting his face up to look into clouded green eyes. _

"_If you want me to stop-"_

"_No," Bran smiled and leaned up on his forearms. "No. I don't ever want you to stop." Before he knew it he was being kissed again, pushed deep into the pillows behind him. _

"_Then I will never, ever stop."_

An annoying jingle startled Bran out of his dream. Without looking he disabled the alarm on his phone, his face still pressed into his pillow.

It was six-thirty and he might not be able to form coherent thoughts but he definitely could remember that dream in vivid detail.

"Dammit, not that dream again," Bran sighed, rubbing his eyes groggily. Green eyes. Soft lips. Blond hair. Bran never knew he had a type but if his dreams meant anything to him.

He didn't know the boy's name-although sometimes the boy was a man, with lean muscles and solemn eyes. Every time it was spoken it was barely clear, like trying to listen to someone talk while you're underwater and they're sitting at the surface, even when he was the one saying it.

He sat up in bed, combing through his long auburn hair with his fingers, trying to get the recent dream out of his head. To no avail, he couldn't stop thinking about it. He's used to having weird dreams, ones that come true, ones that can't come true, but these dreams...these dreams are taking its toll on him. And his sheets.

He can still taste that mouth, those familiar soft lips, almost like he's already tasted them before. Soft and warm, kissing him like it was his last night alive. His fingers trembled as they ghosted over his lips, trailed down his neck, and across his collarbone, just like those lips did in his dreams. But it wasn't the same, not even close. He didn't need to go any lower judging from the uncomfortable wetness between his legs.

Sighing forlornly he lay back down, staring up at the chipped white ceiling.

He wanted to go back to sleep. He only felt at peace in his dreams. They gave him comfort when no one else could. He once tried to chase them away with medicine. But he's stopped that now. They were a part of him. Even the ones with the very attractive blond boy felt like something only for him.

But a lot of times _those _dreams usually end with him aching and messing up his sheets.

Speaking of sheets...he needs to change his. Gods, he felt like a twelve year old who just discovered porn.

He could hear his siblings trampling around above him. Sansa was taking a shower, Rickon was running down the stairs, and Arya was probably still asleep. He didn't want to get up.

_It's Friday_, he reminded himself. _One more day._

Summer had noticed he was awake and had jumped up on his bed, nudging Bran's arm with his nose, whining happily. Bran smiled and playfully ruffled Summer's ears. "Good morning." Summer just looked at him but it seemed like he understood what he had said. Summer was just smart like that.

His large wolf-like dog licked his cheek just as Rickon started to pound at his door.

"Bran! Wake up!" Rickon never opened his door in the mornings, choosing to yell and shout instead of being civilized.

"I'm awake." Bran sat up and pulled his heavy quilts off. He frowned down at his forever still legs.

After the accident that caused him to lose his legs he used to wake up every morning and hope that it was all a dream. He thought that this was another weird dream, like the ones he started getting after he woke up after the accident. But with his mom crying and his siblings hesitant to be around him he soon realized that it wasn't. He let his mom pray for him and Old Nan tell him stories even though he hated it. He felt weak and useless just sitting there unable to do anything but stare out the window. It only got better when he finally snapped and told them all to stop babying him.

Yeah, he didn't use those words but still. (More along the lines of, "If you all don't stop treating me like I'm dying, _I'll jump out the fucking window!")_

"Bran, are you getting dressed?" His mother's voice called from the other side of the door. He heard her silent _Do you need help?_ and rolled his eyes.

"Yes, mum."

"Okay, breakfast will be ready soon." He heard her footsteps all the way to the kitchen.

Bran started to strip out of his clothes, grimly yanking off his cotton shorts. His legs were so pale and hairless, like a girls. He took his Don't Fight The Music sleeping shirt off, balled it up, and tossed it in the hamper across the room.

Heh, three points.

His school clothes were on his nightstand. He put them on with barely any trouble. He's mastered pulling pants on by laying down by now.

Bran leaned over and pulled his wheelchair over to his bedside. With practiced ease he sat himself in the chair and pulled his afghan over his lap, tucking in the sides. He never had to maneuver around anything in his room. Everything, his bookshelves, his table, and everything else that could be, was pushed against his walls, leaving nothing to get in the way of his chair like he was incompetent.

When he entered the kitchen, his mom was making breakfast. She always made breakfast even though they had help for that. She smiled affectionately at him. "Good morning, Bran. How did you sleep?"

"Fine." He smiled.

Arya came down as he rolled to the table. She slumped into the table, looking horrible.

Bran elbowed her. "I thought you said you were going to get some sleep." Arya had said she wouldn't stay up and play video games all night with her boyfriend.

"I look like shit. I know. But I don't regret anything!"

"Language, Arya!" Their mom glare at her youngest daughter, striking the fear of Catelyn Stark into her, with her large blue Tully eyes.

"Sorry, mum."

Bran smirked at her. Catelyn put food on their plates. Rickon and Sansa sat down. Rickon wouldn't shut up about his dream where he was Spiderman and Shaggydog was his sidekick. And he could talk. But only in Latin.

Sansa rolled her eyes. "Well my dream was about Joffrey. We were walking in the park-"

Arya cut her off with a piece of toast. "No one wants to hear about your wet dreams."

Sansa's lovely face turned bright red, matching the colour of her brilliant red hair. "It wasn't like that! God you're such a pervert!"

"What's a pervert?" Rickon asked loudly with his mouth full. He was only eleven.

Arya leaned forward and stage whispered, "It's someone who kidnaps little boys like yourself and wear their skin like clothes."

"Arya, those are pedophiles; not perverts. Perverts are just creepy old men you see staring at women's tits at the bus stop." Bran said.

Or course their mom chose to listen while he spoke. Her eyes were wide and she looked completely shocked to hear him say something like that. He was Her Bran, her lovely little innocent Bran. He just stared back, unsure of what to do at that point. Fuck.

Thankfully Ned came down the stairs, dispersing the awkward tension. "So who's ready for school?"

..o..o..o..

North Winterfell High, home of the Direwolves, loomed ahead in dark stone, looking more like a penitentiary than a high school. It was dark and gloomy as always, no matter what bright new color was painted on the walls. The students hated it, the teachers hated it, fuck, the environment hated it.

"Goodbye my children, have a wonderful day." Ned told them as he watched Bran, Arya, and Sansa walk into the building. He knew they thought it was embarrassing and "uncool" but what kind of father would he be if he didn't humiliate them?

Bran wheeled around to the ramp with his sisters behind him. Sansa was complaining about her AP biology test she had today. Arya was trying to ride on the back of his chair and failing. Students in front of them parted faster than a whores legs.

"I'll see you twats at lunch," Arya called and walked in the direction of the art room.

Sansa walked with him to his locker and to his first hour. She tried to tell him about the new lipstick brand but he tuned most of it out. It wasn't that he didn't like Sansa. It was just that she never said anything that he cared about. The only things she talked about was clothes, her friends, her boyfriend, and makeup. He didn't care about any of that but he didn't want to look like an asshole.

When she walked away he felt like he could breath again.

He sat at the only table located at the far right of the room. All his teachers had to add a table in their room if they didn't have one already. At first he felt awkward about. Now he likes the extra space.

Only him and some girls were in the room. There was still twenty minutes until class. He drew random ugly rabbit things in his notebook. Even as the time passed by and more of his classmates came into the room he sat there by himself. He got over the loneliness a while ago, when none of his friends from school would come visit him and people only wanted to pity him.

He could kind of understand. They were probably all afraid of offending him or making him feel like shit by referring to anything that involved walking. But, honestly, they practically were shunning him. And all Bran wanted was someone to talk to that he wasn't family with. He didn't care if all they talked about was sports or _stair climbing_; he just wanted someone to acknowledge him...

The bell rang while was lost in his thoughts and drawing the weird face carved into the weird tree in his backyard into his notebook. He didn't leave it for long, advanced algebra wasn't all that exciting since he already knew how to do it. During the summer all he did was study, play video games, and jerk off. His teacher didn't even bother to come near him.

He went to lunch with tired eyes and aching fingers. Arya and Sansa was already seated with their usual group of friends and sort-of-kinda friends. There was Margaery Tyrell, Jeyne Poole, and annoying Joffrey Baratheon at Sansa's side. Gendry Waters, Hot Pie, and Lommy were practically yelling about _Call of Duty_ while Arya just watched, sometimes yelling with them too. Bran sat at the end of the long table like a king.

"Hey, can I have your chips? Mom gave me this nasty fruit bar thing." Arya said, already reaching for his chips.

He took the fruit bar. "Yeah, sure, go ahead. I don't really know why you ask you always take them."

"She's such a bully," Gendry said, his smile making it more of a compliment.

"I'm not a bully. He's my younger brother; I'm supposed to do this," she reasoned.

Sansa snatched the chips out of her hand and tossed her the apple. "And I'm allowed to do this, horseface. Since I'm older and all that."

Bran liked Sansa in these moments.

There was about ten minutes left when Sandor thundered into the lunchroom, looking like the world just fucked him for all he was worth. No one said anything to him after he sat down. They just watched as he quickly got more pissed from all the staring. It was awkward.

"The fuck are you assholes looking at!" he growled like a wild dog, his scarred face hard and mean.

It was safe to say Bran was afraid of him. He once saw the guy punch a kid so hard he literally _flew _backwards. No one should be that strong. Especially not while they're still in high school.

"What's got your balls in a twist, dog?" Joffrey sneered, looking pompous and idiotic. Bran and everyone else hated the kid but didn't say anything because Sansa seemed to really like him.

Such a stupid prick.

Sandor, commonly know as the Hound, looked like he wanted to smash Joffrey's squished little face into the table, but since he was being paid by Joffrey's mom to guard him he couldn't. "None of your fucking business."

Joffrey just shrugged. "Whatever, I'm not paying you to bitch your feelings out to me. Hm, I don't even think I should pay you at all, all the good its done for me."

He apparently didn't know how many times Sandor has had to threaten or punch a kid who would want to beat Joffrey to a bloody pulp. He thinks he invincible but if Sandor ever quit or got fired he'd probably be hospitalized and crying like the bitch he is.

"Oh Joffrey," Sansa interrupted before Sandor could flip tits. "Do you want to come over after school? I need help with my research."

_All hail Sansa and her perfect timing_, Bran thought. It was a gift and a curse. Bran of course didn't want to go home after school now. It was bad enough to be in the older boys presence at school. He seriously didn't know what his sister saw in him. He gave Arya a longing look when she asked Gendry if they could go over his house.

Gendry nodded at him. "Bran, wanna come over, we still haven't finished our game." By game be meant their _Magic the Gathering_ duel. It sounded a lot less lame in his head. Okay no it was lame either way.

But _oh gods yes. _Bran nodded enthusiastically. At least he wouldn't have to bear witness to Sansa's horrible relationship. Death would be preferable than that. Castration would be preferable to that.

The bell rang and they all went their separate ways.

..o..o..o..

When Bran finally got home, sometime after nine, his mother heated him up dinner and didn't say a word about why he wasn't home right after school. She just gave him an understanding look and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

He ate alone; Arya just made two sandwiches and went to her room. But knowing her she was just going to stay up and watch movies until her eyes dried up (or until their mom yelled at her to take her ass to sleep.)

Damn, just thinking of sleep had Bran almost dropping his head onto his plate. He didn't know why he was so tired. Maybe it was this shitty long week and four hours of mindlessly playing video games.

He debated whether or not he should take a shower. He yawned, but it came out more like a howl, and decided _fuck no_. He always had tomorrow.

Bran locked his door after he shut it and literally crawled into bed. He was wrapping his arms around his pillow when he remembered he was still wearing his school clothes.

He groaned and swore and started taking his clothes off at a snails pace. He pretty much gave up with his jeans after the third try and he couldn't get them off, so now they were wrapped awkwardly around his legs.

_Whatever. It's not like I can feel it anyway. _

With that morbid thought he fell asleep, never once waking up from his nightmares until morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Arya woke up with the gross taste of old Mountain Dew in her mouth and her xbox controller jabbing her in the back. She rolled over onto her side and grabbed her phone from her nightstand. It was only 6:14. "Ah, fuck Mondays." She cuddled into her Gendry smelling pillow and went back to sleep. Five more minutes…

..o..o..o..

Sansa was curling the ends of her hair, smiling at herself in the mirror, singing something because she was chipper like that. She licked her strawberry flavored lips and checked her phone. One message from Joff. She felt her heart pound in her chest. She quickly opened the message.

_The dog is picking you up today. I'll be by your locker. c;_

Sansa smiled at her phone, pressing it to her heart. "Oh, Joff-Joff…"

..o..o..o..

The weekend came and went for Bran with not much to show for. He studied, played TF2 until his eyes burned, and jerked off to his dreams. He questioned his sexuality more than once. But none of that was new to him.

He was having more dreams about the blond boy. Not all of them were grip the sheets orgasmic but those did leave the lasting impression. Some of them were normal dreams but _Blondie_-Bran's stupid cheesy name for the boy-was always in them. Although his face was never completely in focus. Every time he looked at him it was like looking into someone's glasses, all blurry and fuzzy.

But remembered the eyes though. So green he thought he was drowning in a sea of grass and moss.

He was a romantic. Deal with it.

..o..o..o..

Arya sat in the far back of the room, liking to be shrouded in the shadows than being in the spot light. She had a perfect view into the shallow woods around her school, all tall trees with thick branches. She was graced with intimidation so no one ever bothered her. All but one.

Gendry slouched down next to her, turning his head to stare at her.

After a while Arya got annoyed. "Are you just going to stare at me all day? What's your problem?"

"Sorry I was entrapped by your beauty. I couldn't help myself." He said this with absolute seriousness. He didn't smile or laugh.

_Beauty? I didn't even know that was in Gendry's vocabulary. _Arya thought while trying to force her disturbed expression away.

She felt unease creep into her. What the everlasting fuck? "Are you okay? Did you fall up the stairs again?" She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. He felt normal…

Gendry shook his head. "I'm alright, Arya. But I meant what I said. You're beautiful."

Other around them must have heard because it suddenly got very quiet in the classroom. _Shit_, Arya thought, _shit, shit shit._ Gendry was her best friend. And yeah, he sometimes sleeps over, and yeah they kissed a few times, but that was it. They weren't boyfriend and girlfriend. The thought of being in a relationship made her feel queasy. She didn't know how to handle things like this. Things like love.

The next best thing she knew was anger.

"Cut the shit, Gendry, I'm not in the mood."

He stared at her with his steely blue eyes and let out a harsh breath. "You're never in the mood. Why is that, huh? Why are you always so cold?"

She clenched her jaw. She had no idea what got into Gendry. Why was he acting like this? Her mood plummeted to the ground as her anger shot up. "Fuck you! Why are you acting like such a dick?"

Gendry shook his head and ran his fingers through his thick black hair. He sighed deeply. "Nevermind. Forget it."

"No." She leaned in to face him, her throat dry from a feeling she couldn't explain. "Tell me."

He wouldn't meet her eyes and she felt like she really fucked up this time. She watched as he shook his head and promptly ignored her. She sat back, completely at a loss of what to do. She didn't get why Gendry was acting like this. She couldn't think of anything that she did wrong to him. The last time they talked was Sunday night and it was nothing but normal.

And why was he even calling her beautiful? She wasn't beautiful. Sansa and her bitchy friends always called her horseface. And neither Lommy or Hot Pie ever hinted to being attracted to her her and they always talked about the hot girls at their school. So what the hell?

She bit her tongue from screaming out in frustration. She would lie to anyone who said they saw tears in her eyes.

..o..o..o..

Bran covered a yawn and pulled out his aged _Lord of The Rings_ copy and began reading. The thing was so old and damn near fallen apart but it felt like a family heirloom. It was that old. He only started reading at the part where Frodo wakes up in Elrond's house when he heard the seemingly innocuous sound of the chair next to him pulling out.

He froze and slowly looked to his left. At first all he could see was a green sweater. The bottle green sweater with the Greywater University logo on it. Then blond hair and moss green eyes.

_I'm dreaming. This has all been a dream. I'm not seeing this. Nope. Nope. Nope. I'm in my bed dreaming this. _Bran closed his eyes and pinched his arm. He opened his eyes again but there he was. He looked down at his hands and saw that he had all ten fingers. He looked back up at the blond.

_There he is,_ a voice whispered in the back of his mind and behind all the shock he almost felt like he'd been expecting this.

The boy was blond with emerald green eyes and pink lips. He was dressed in jeans and that sweater. His ears were pierced with silvers hoops and studs and he wore a checkered wristband. He looked at Bran with an eyebrow raised in what he assumed was concern. Or he was looking at him like "what the fuck is wrong with this kid."

"I'm sorry...but are you real?" Bran asked as calmly as he could. As calm as anyone could be when _literally _seeing the guy of your dreams sitting _two _feet away from you. Which wasn't much.

His insides felt like they were being jumbled around to the point he thought he was going to be sick. His hands felt clammy and his head a bit light. He blinked a few times but the boy was still standing there.

The blond's lips quirked up in a half smile. Bran couldn't stop his brain from remembering all those dreams. He could almost feel those same lips pressed hotly against his skin, right above his hip, mouthing down between his legs-oh _shit_.

The green eyed boy looked down at his body in surprise. "As far as I know. Why, are you tripping? You aren't going to ask me what year it is, are you?"

Attractive with a sense of humor. Sexuality be damned!

Bran tried not to choke on his spit. "Sorry, that was, uh, nevermind. Not important," _nice save. That didn't help the fact that I sound like a total dumbass. _That was followed by a couple awkward _haha_'s and _um_'s.

"Is it alright if I sit here? I'm not in anyones spot am I? I'd hate to have to move after I marked my territory all over it." His voice was soft and smooth and Bran was aware that he just described his voice like he describes peanut butter.

And what? Marking his territory? Yeah. Sure.

Bran chuckled but it came out barely noticeable and awkward. "You can sit with me."

The blond sat and put out his hand and after a while wiggled it when Bran just stared at it. "You know this is normally when you shake my hand. I don't have cooties, I swear."

Bran slid his hand into his. He hoped his palm wasn't sweaty. He felt sweaty and turned on. Like really really turned on. Over a goddamn handshake. "Sorry, I'm Brandon Stark. You can just call me Bran." _And, you know, I've just been dreaming about fucking you for the past few months. No big deal. _

"Reed. Jojen Reed, at your service." He smiled, looking so proud of himself.

Now he had a name to the face. Face, body, all that.

Bran was smiling like a complete dork. He couldn't stop staring at his green eyes. They were just like he remembered. Beautiful as fuck. He knew this was weird. It wasn't _right_. It freaked him out on the inside and he kept worrying that he was imagining this and that he was just talking to himself in the middle of class. But when he looked around no one was giving him weird looks and Jojen seemed real enough.

"Where did you come from?" Heaven, maybe?

"I used to live in The Neck _buuuuut_ my parents got a divorce and now I live with my mom." He said, taking one look at Bran's expression and continued. "Don't worry it's not like they hate each other. It's not my fault either, or my sisters. They just...fell out of love."

Bran thought he sounded a bit miserable when he said that. Like he was some die hard romantic and his parents divorce crushed his fragile views on romance. He didn't know what to say so he said, "I'm sorry" and awkwardly looked away.

"It's fine now," Jojen shrugged and picked at the healing scar on his wrist.

Bran felt a wave of sadness crash against his heart. Jojen cuts? He just wanted to wrap the blond up in a hug now. He wanted to protect Jojen from anything that would make him sad or depressed. He was so tempted to do just that but he didn't want to come off as a total creep.

He must have seen Bran looking because he stopped scratching at it. "Oh...no...it's not," he sighed. "I cut myself cutting a pizza the other day. And no that's not a lie. Here," he turned his wrist and touched a pink burn mark. "I burned myself on the oven, freaked, and cut myself too. I have horrible luck."

Bran sighed in relief. "You should probably stay away from pointy things."

"And ovens."

The brunet chuckled and lifted his sleeve. The long since healed cut was pink against his pale skin. "I used to climb trees a lot. I got this from a stupidly sharp branch. It hurt like a bitch. Had to get stitches."

Jojen reached out and traced it with his finger, zigzagging it from stitch scar to stitch scar. Warm tingles spread out through his arm with that single stroke. The brunet turned his head to look at Jojen and found that their faces were super close, only a breath away. Jojen's hair smelled like flowery shampoo and his breath like spearmint gum. His face flushed pink. Oh shit, son.

_Riiiing_-oh yes. Saved by the bell.

Mr. Baelish walked in with his usual smile and flourish. Honestly, Bran always thought this guy was a creep. He always hit on his mom during conferences-apparently they knew each other from childhood?-and it always pissed his dad off. And sometimes he saw him looking at Sansa with that weird smile on his face.

Mr. Baelish saw Jojen's unfamiliar face with his tiny blue-grey eyes and walked towards him. He smelled like too much cologne and not enough toothpaste. "Why, is this our new student? I see you've acquainted yourself with him, Bran."

_Ugh gross now he's looking at me. _Bran wanted to wheel himself over a cliff right about now.

"I'm Jojen Reed, it's nice to meet you…?"

"Call me Mr. Baelish. You transferred all the way from Greywater High, huh? Well, I truly hope you enjoy our school. If you need anything, you can come to me." All the while his eyes roamed over Jojen's features.

"Right." Jojen nodded, trying not to look mortified.

"Have Bran get you caught up. I'm sure he'll be a great teacher to you. He is my top student." He smiled at Bran before walking to the front of the room to instruct the class.

Jojen was trying not laugh. "Is he always so…"

"Disturbing?"

"Yep."

"How do you think I feel? He's always trying to show me off to the other math teachers. And he knows my parents on a personal level, apparently. Gods, he once was invited over to my house for dinner."

"I feel so bad for you. It's like having Peter Pettigrew hovering over you with those creepy eyes. Why are his eyes so tiny? And that smile," Jojen shuddered. "I feel like he just undressed me."

"It's sad because his name is Petyr." Bran whispered.

Jojen laughed quietly into his sleeve. It was adorable. Bran was just staring at him. He was hot in like a dorky nerdy way. Maybe cute was better. He was kind of short. But Bran didn't care. Everyone was taller than him anyway.

"So, what's your schedule?" Bran asked and took the white paper that Jojen handed him. "You're a junior?"

Jojen nodded, biting a nail. "Yeah, why?"

"Sorry, it's just that you look like a thirteen year old."

"I age well. I'm like fine wine."

Bran chuckled. "We have lunch and ceramics together."

Jojen took his schedule back and looked at it. "So it seems. I'll get to see you in the morning, at lunch, and at the end of the day." He ticked the three off on his fingers then wiggled them.

Bran nodded. "And in between classes, see my third hour is right across from yours, same with my fifth. You're not going to be able to get rid of me," he said with a half-smile.

Jojen hummed, a deep sound that Bran definitely liked. "Mm, I'm fine with that."

_He's fine with seeing me all day_, Bran thought giddily. He was fine. Yeah, Jojen was fine. Fine, fine, _fine_. Bran was about, hm, five second away from doing something completely ridiculous like kissing Jojen. Kissing those adorably pink lips and not regretting it afterwards.

_You can't kiss him. You just met him. Bran, stop, stop it right now. He's straight! Straight. Straight. Straight. Okay he might not be, but don't kiss him. You. Just. Met. Him._

He had to look away before he closed the small-and getting smaller-distance between them. He heard Jojen let out a sigh when he moved away and Bran felt disappointed with himself because fuck Jojen totally would have kissed him and he just ruined it. Thanks brain, you really helped a ton.

It was awkward for a while. Bran rubbed the back of his neck and looked around. No one seemed to see that awkward exchange. All except Mr. Baelish. He was watching, always watching.

"So, I bet you understand this more than me," Jojen muttered, flailing his paper about.

And just like that the awkwardness was gone and they went back to talking again, sitting even closer to each other.

..o..o..o..

Sandor Clegane was a beast of a man. Tall, muscular, intimidating. His face was mean and scarred and no one ever looked too hard at him. He was quick to anger and ever quicker to punching someone in the face. No one fucked with him. Not even the teachers.

Sansa didn't know why he even came to school. He never said anything unless he was threatening someone. The only time she's seen him do work is in Tech.

She sighed, trying not to fall asleep in her seat. She looked at the clock. Only two minutes have passed since she's last glanced at it. Twelve minutes until lunch.

She tapped her pencil against the table. Mr. Pycelle was about as interesting as a hangnail. It literally hurt to listen to him talk in his whispery rasp of a voice. And he taught history. He was so old she was sure everything he talked about were first hand accounts. Her bored blue eyes wandered around the room, searching for Margaery's eyes. She rolled them and mimed shooting herself when they met hers. Her best friend smiled and slit her throat with her finger, her eyes rolling back into her head.

_Ten minutes left, oh fuck me Stranger,_ Sansa thought.

She continued to think, but her thoughts didn't go to the apparent love of her life but to his body guard. Sandor. _Hound_. Sandor. _Dog_. It wasn't like he was nice to her. He called her a bitch the other day and he threatened her just yesterday. But there wasn't any heat to it. It was all empty words and she knew that.

She didn't know why she did, but she just did. It must have to do with him calling her 'little bird' all the time. Sansa didn't take that as an insult. Not from him.

The bell rang before she knew it and the relief almost made her pass out.

"Come, my dearest friend, before we internally combust from absolute boredom." Margaery looped her arm around her and dragged her weary bones out of the classroom.

"Six more months. Six more months and we're out of here." Sansa muttered under her breath. They were both going to King's Landing University in the fall. They still had six more months of high school to go through. It was torture, goddamn torture. She couldn't understand how teachers ever wanted to come back to this place.

"Yes, and we can sunbathe! And pick flowers! I can't wait. Sansa, let's build a time machine." Margaery sang.

"Sure, why not? I bet we could do it if we tried." Sansa said. "Although I don't know a thing about mechanics and engineering."

"Neither do I. We could get those weird kids from the robotics team to build it for us and we can just watch and sip mimosas."

"It's the classy thing to do." They clinked pretend glasses together in a toast before laughing at how weird they were.

"Gods, I'm hungry. I hope they don't have that nasty pizza. It gives you dog breath."

"It's honestly probably made out of dogs. Strays at that!"

They sat at the long table, squeezing in between Joffrey and Jeyne. Arya wasn't there yet but Gendry, Lommy, and Hot Pie were. Gendry looked moody and had his earbuds in. Not even Lommy's horrible impersonation of Principle Brienne made him laugh. She knew it took Bran a while to get down here with his wheelchair so she wasn't worried.

When Bran did come down he was with someone. A blond boy with green eyes that she's never seen before. Bran was smiling up at the blond and talking excitedly with him. She felt a smile curve at her lips. _Bran's finally making friends. It's about time._ She noticed Jeyne sit up a bit straighter and subtly check if her hair was perfect. _Does Jeyne like Bran?_ Sansa smirked a little.

Time to play matchmaker.


	3. Chapter 3

Tuesday morning turned out to be even worse than Monday morning. Bran's eyelids felt like lead. He was tempted to just stay home and sleep past noon but then he would remember why he was up so late.

Jojen fucking Reed.

He would be fine right now if his dreams weren't about him. Or, if he wasn't constantly thinking about him.

Bran went through the rest of his day in his head, thinking of all the things he wish he would have said. All the questions he wanted to ask but he was too afraid it would ruin everything, or just make it painfully awkward even more than it already was.

(_Who are you? Because I don't think I should be seeing you. Are you real? Are you human? And, uh, do you get _those _dreams, too, or am I just a weird pervert?)_

He woke up embarrassingly moaning Jojen's name, his skin was sweaty and flushed, soaking the constantly washed sheets. It took him almost fifteen minutes to calm down because Dream Jojen was still making his heart pound.

Dreams. Memories. He wasn't sure what they were but they all felt familiar. Like watching an old movie he knows he's seen before but not remembering when or where.

And of course it was highly logical that his dreams would be psycho intense now that he's _met_ Jojen. But he wasn't prepared for last night. At. All.

It was probably wrong to get off on thinking about the seventeen year old boy who you saw in your dreams. But he couldn't stop it. Whether he liked it or not, they came (no pun intended.) And he was a pathetic teenager anyway, enslaved by hormones likely to do more bad than good.

Now all he could think about was if Jojen would really moan like that if he bit on his neck, right under his jaw. Or if his stomach would flutter when he kissed the dip of his hipbone.

Oh hell. He needed to calm down before he got stiff in class. It doesn't matter who you're thinking about; classroom boners are the absolute worst.

So, here he sat in second hour when he really wanted to get Jojen in his birthday suit. He wanted him in his birthday suit while in his bed, panting out his name, arching his back, hands fisting the sheets, eyes rolling back...

He seriously didn't get how people thought he was the innocent one.

And he's well aware that "birthday suit" isn't sexy sounding at all. But once a rebel always a rebel-

Anyway, Bran was excited. Ecstatic. Distracted. He couldn't even do any of his homework last night. His hands were _waaaaay_ too busy-

He knew he had a problem. Jojen was a problem. He needed to figure something out soon or else he was going to fail high school. He couldn't be the cripple and the failure. Balance, always a balance.

There was two minutes left of passing. Bran bit at his nail. Where was he?

Bran stared at the doorway as other kids came in, none of them the one he wanted. Bran was starting to get worried.

_Oh no, _he started thinking. W_hat if he wasn't real? What if yesterday never happened? What if it was all a dream? What if-_

Before Bran could stress himself bald, Jojen Reed walked around the corner. His large binder and stack of books sitting precariously in his arms and Bran caught himself before he let out a happy sigh of relief. He could only see Jojen's forehead and it didn't help that the guy was short. But he saw the checkered wristband on his left wrist. At least it proved that he wasn't hallucinating.

Jojen slumped next to him and dumped the books on the table. It wobbled, looking like it was about to fall apart, but it held through. His pretty blond head rested on his books.

Bran looked at the stack he had carried in. Psychology 101, a book about lycanthropy-Bran was going to ask him about that later-a large book about anatomy, and other odd books. He also had a heavy looking book bag.

The brunet finally got a look at the blond and was shocked to see bags under his eyes. He looked like a sad animal. It was adorable. Slightly endearing in a weird way. His face might have gotten a bit flushed but he would ignore that.

"You okay?" Bran asked quietly, the concern clear in his voice. He set his head on his arms so he could look the green eyed boy in the eyes.

Jojen sighed and meet his eyes. "Sort of. Real bad dream." He sounded miserable. His usual bright eyes were dark and heavy. It must have been one hell of a nightmare.

Bran felt bad. While he was moaning and thrashing in his sleep, Jojen was lying awake probably horrified. Bran only gets that way with zombie dreams.

Zombie dreams are the worse. Absolutely terrifying. Bloody jaws snapping at his throat, green, rotted hands clawing at his ribs, the stench of death filling his nostrils. Oh man.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Jojen looked haunted. At first it seemed like he was going to say no. Bran could see it plain on his face. But Jojen sighed and spoke, his voice devoid of any emotion but sadness. "I watched someone I love die."

Icy dread filled his heart for some reason. He couldn't say it was jealousy because it wasn't that. It was way more than that. Jojen must love many people; like his parents and sister and childhood pet. It wasn't jealousy.

He was scared and he didn't know why.

He also didn't know why he knew Jojen had a sister, but he did so he was just gonna go with it.

"I'm sorry." Wow, he was inadequate. Was that all he could say? He wanted to tell him it would be okay and to comfort him and make him feel better. It was like he could _feel_ Jojen's sadness like it was his own.

Jojen tried to give a smile but it wavered and vanished before it could even count as one.

Fuck it.

Bran reached out the best he could and wrapped his arms around the blond. The arm of his chair dug into his side but he ignored the pain. Jojen definitely wasn't expecting that. But he didn't push him away so Bran didn't let go.

"Jojen, it was just a nightmare, okay? It wasn't real." His mouth was right by Jojen's neck. He could feel Jojen's skin when he talked. He could easily just press his lips closer, closer until it touched skin. His head started to feel a little light at that thought.

_Whoa. Kissing Jojen. Sounds fantastic. When can we start?_

Jojen was nodding with one hand coming to rest on Bran's right hand, all warm and soft. Bran smiled and burrowed deeper into Jojen's neck. He liked being there. For some reason he felt...safe and comfortable like this.

_Damn, Jojen has nice shoulders. Holy seven hells he smells good. He so warm, I could just fall asleep right here. _Bran yawned, breathing warm air down Jojen's neck. The older boy shivered. He distantly heard the bell ring and he wanted to tell its screeching to shut the fuck up so he could stay like this forever.

"Bran, uh, you can let go now." Jojen muttered.

The brunet quickly let go, his face flushing red. _Way to go dipshit. That's one way to lose the one friend you have. _Bran wanted to be swallowed up in an abyss. At least it beat dying from embarrassment.

"S-sorry," _oh kill me now_.

"It's okay." Jojen's face was just as red.

Bran took interest in that. A lot of interest. Oh man.

"Hugs not drugs and all that."

Jojen actually smiled at that. He knocked his hand against Bran's and linked their fingers together. "Bran you're a dork. You can hug me, honest, it's just..." he frowned.

He tugged at Jojen's hand. "What? You can tell me, anything." Bran felt like he shouldn't be having this conversation in the middle of algebra. He didn't see anyone even looking in their direction.

Jojen thought the same. "Later, okay? After school, maybe? I know this place by the bridge, really relaxing."

Bran nodded and smiled. They were going to be alone, hopefully in a darkly lit corner. He really liked that idea. He waggled his eyebrows at the blond.

Jojen just rolled his eyes and scooted his chair closer. "You're going to be the death of me, Brandon Stark."

Bran took that as a good thing.

..o..o..o..

At lunch Sansa realized her sister was fighting with Gendry. They sat far away from each other, not looking or talking to each other. Gendry was obviously trying to make it look like he wasn't bothered by it. But Arya was sending off massive don't-fuck-with-me vibes that even clueless Lommy and Hot Pie noticed it.

She wasn't sure if she should talk to Arya about it. Just to give her some sisterly support or let her cry on her shoulder although she's never seen Arya cry since she was nine. She'd probably tell her to fuck off anyway.

Arya just sat there picking at the sandwich their mother made her. She didn't eat last night or this morning. Last night she stayed in her room, blaring music and telling everyone to leave her alone. 'Fuck off' and 'fuck yourselves' more like it.

They broke up. Harsh. First loves are always the worst.

Joffrey was compla-she means talking passionately about something to do with his absent guard dog. She just nodded a lot and ate some apple slices but she couldn't help but wonder too. Where the hell _was_ Sandor? He rarely skipped. That would cut into his pay.

Sansa didn't completely understand why she even cared that Sandor was suddenly missing. It was a strange feeling but she couldn't stop thinking about him.

"It was brilliant. I can't believe you haven't seen it."

She turned her head to see Bran and his new friend Jojen coming into the lunchroom later than usual. Bran had both their binders and books on his lap but it didn't bother him. He was smiling excitedly while gesturing wildly while Jojen pushed his chair.

She sneakily looked down her list.

How to get Bran and Jeyne together:

Step 1: get them to talk to each other

Step 2: inquire about their feelings

Step 3: let them be alone NOTHING SEXUAL!

Step 4: plan wedding with jeyne

Sansa thought this was a good enough plan. Jeyne was cute and from what she knows about Bran, he likes cute girls. Of course she's never seen him with a girl but all boys his age like cute girls. It's fact.

"Sorry. I lost interest after season five. It just got drawn out. Did Cas and Dean end up with each other?" Jojen sat next to her but all his attention was at Bran. And Bran was just eating the attention up. She hasn't seen him smiling so much since his birthday.

Not like that was surprising. Ever since he came yesterday he was with Bran, like a shadow. But Bran looked happy to have him. He finally had a dorky friend to talk about _Star Wars _with.

"Ha ha. No. That subtext fucks us every time. Nine seasons long and still nothing."

_Oh my gods. They are complete dorks. _Sansa blocked out their geeky conversation after that.

But Jeyne leaned over to look at the two boys. "I love that show."

Sansa stared at her friend like she just confessed her undying love to one of Walder Frey's sons. _Bullshit_. Jeyne probably didn't even know what they were talking about. But at least she was talking to him and Sansa didn't even have to do anything.

She looked at Bran to gauge his expression. His expression mirrored her earlier thoughts completely.

"That's great." It was a clear dismissal. Sansa's never heard Bran's voice sound so... _mean. _It was gone once he was talking to Jojen again. "Anyway, pretty much the world ends..."

Sansa watched as Jeyne sat back looking annoyed. Jeyne's eyes wandered over to the blond boy at Sansa's right side. Sansa wasn't sure if she saw anger in Jeyne's brown eyes when she looked at Jojen or something else completely.

Right, 'cause she likes Bran and all. But it wasn't like Bran ever paid any attention to her. And Jeyne never paid attention to Bran before either. She always thought Bran was weird because he was so quiet. She only talked to him because she had to.

Sansa didn't know what was going on. Maybe she thought Jojen was a threat and it was time to pounce.

Wow that was stupid sounding. It wasn't like Bran was into him or anything.

"So," Lommy was looking at Bran and Jojen. "Are you two, like, dating or something?"

Whoa, what the fuck Lommy? Sansa wanted to kick him for asking something so stupid. Even Arya looked up, staring between the two boys in question.

Bran's face flushed red and he stared down at the table. "W-why would you..."

Jojen slung an arm around Bran's shoulder. "Oh yeah, we're definitely dating."

"Jojen, shut up." Bran covered his face. He refused to look at the infuriating blond. "You're so weird."

"So is that a yes...or nah?"

"Yes." Jojen said at the same time Bran said "No."

Jojen sighed into his hand, shaking his head. "Brannels just go with it."

"...Brannels?"

"Yeah, don't get mad," he peeked at Bran through his fingers. "I think it's cute. Suits you."

Bran's face noticeably got redder.

"So gay," Lommy muttered. He shook his head and went back to talking to the fat boy next to him.

Bran and Jojen continued to argue about the nickname. It was pretty much flirting. (They decided Bran could be Brannels as long as Jojen was Jojo.)

Sansa stared at the arm around Bran, leading down to the hand that was holding Bran almost possessively. Her eyes widened. _Okay weird_, but Bran actually seemed to be leaning closer.

_Just going on an educated guess here but I think Bran's gay. _Sansa sighed. Jeyne is going to be devastated. Sansa looked at the empty spot at the other end of the table. _And where the hell _is _Sandor?_

..o..o..o..

Rolling in a wheelchair had its perks, Bran can admit that. Sure the whole losing your legs thing is shit but at least you can say fuck you to the stairs and run over people's feet for fun. Bran used to miss going up stairs, but now as he watched all the butts struggling to get in front of another he just pitied them.

He didn't miss stairs. He just missing being able to walk in general. But he would not feel bad for himself. Either way he'll still be in the damn chair whether he likes it or not.

He liked the tough love kind of thing.

Hands were suddenly covering his eyes and all he saw was darkness. He frowned. Soft hair tickled his cheek. It smelled like coconuts.

"Don't move and no one gets hurt," someone with an exaggerated deep voice growled in his ear.

"Your cop voice sucks. But knowing you, you don't mind sucking." Bran teased.

Arya slapped the back of his head. "Jerk."

Bran rubbed his head. "Ow, you troll."

Arya smirked down at him, removing her bright orange head phones and putting them around her neck. "How was your day, little brother? See any good fights?"

Bran pushed himself closer to the elevator and shook his head. "No fights. But I did see Joffrey's boring sister arguing with her even more boring boyfriend. Something to do with facebook messages from some girl. It was pretty funny. Jojen got it on his phone."

"Yeah, I heard about it. Didn't she throw her chair at him?" Arya looked down at her phone, and seeming to not like what she saw.

"Uh...no."

"Huh," Arya shrugged. "But I overheard Sansa's band of anorexic minions say Myrcella _did_ kick him in the balls."

Bran shook his head. "Nope. Didn't happen. She just slapped-you know I can just show you. Jojen-"

"Hey, speaking of which," Arya smirked. "Where is _your_ boyfriend? I'm surprised that he isn't all over you. And why were you carrying the books? Are _you_ courting him?"

_Great, because of him people think we're dating._ He wouldn't mind that, actually dating Jojen. But they aren't so talking about them dating is just awkward. "We are not dating."

"Uh huh, suuuure, keep tellin' yourself that, kid." She stopped in front of the elevator and pressed the down button.

"Really we aren't. "

She still wasn't buying it. "Look, no one cares that you're gay. Really. No one. Especially not mom. She's already going to be expecting a shit ton of grandkids." She frowned as the doors closed around them. "Now that I think of it...gay guys always want big families, right? They always get the cutest babies too."

Bran flushed, looking at his reflection in the closed elevator doors. "That's stereotypical, Arya, don't be an ass."

Arya shrugged as they began their slow descent. "Just saying. I'm not having kids."

"Can't have babies slow down your partying, huh?"

"Damn straight."

Bran chuckled. "We all know Sansa's going to have a litter."

"Right. Gross."

The doors opened and Bran rolled out first, accidentally running over Arya's foot. "Sorry."

"Yeah, yeah. Fucking asshole," she grumbled and walked with him. She wasn't even limping so it couldn't be that bad.

He was about to turn the corner when he remembered what he was supposed to do today. He paused and Arya ran into his back. He winced. "My bad."

"Ow! Dammit Bran if you're doing this on purpose-"

"I'm not getting a ride from dad. You can go with Sansa." Bran interrupted. He really hoped she just went with it like a good older sister but knowing her she'll ask questions like a bad older sister.

Sisters are the worst. Trade them in when you can.

"Why not? How the hell are you getting home? Roll the 15 blocks?" She stood in front of him, hands on his handles, and leaned down until she was staring him right in the face. Her big dark eyes bore into his, hard and intimidating.

He just sighed. He was used to people doing this when they tried to stare him down. Yeah, make the kid in the chair feel even more impaired. Thanks, you're the best.

"I have plans, ok. And don't worry I have a ride."

One eyebrow rose up. "Oh really? Who else do you know with a car?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

Seven hells. There was no one that he could even lie about. Gendry already left and he didn't want to bring him up knowing that he and his sister weren't...whatever it was they were anymore. And even if he did try he was a pisspoor liar. Bran grimly accepted defeat. "Jojen."

Arya slowly started to smirk. "And people call _me_ the Stark Slut. Bran, Bran, Bran. That sounds like a date to me." She shook her head and leaned off his chair.

"It's not like that."

"Whatever. Wear condoms. And only do the cool drugs." Arya was laughing like this was the best shit ever.

"Arya, you're my favorite sister. Stop acting like a dick."

"Fine, but when I see him he's going to get the speech. And not just from me. Mum, dad, Robb. If he hurts you he'll probably die the same day."

"Go away," Bran mumbled.

She started to walk away towards her own locker but not before ruffling his hair and saying, "Ah, my little brother is growing up. What a day."

Embarrassed and annoyed, Bran glumly opened his locker. The few people around him moved out the way. Bran yanked his bag out and stuffed his books in, grumbling about his annoying sister under his breath.

He slammed his locker shut. Jojen stood at the other side, his heavy looking backpack hanging at his side. Bran made an embarrassing squeak sound and almost dropped his bag but grabbed the strap before it could spill.

"Holy shit, warn someone." One hand rested over his beating heart.

Jojen gave an apologetic smile and Bran's heart started to pound for a different reason. "Sorry, I thought you heard me. I said your name."

He sighed and shook his head. "My bad. I'm distracted. My sister is a huge twat and if she harrasses you I am so sorry."

Jojen shrugged and reached out to brush Bran's bangs out of his face. "That's fine. Honest."

Bran froze at the random touch but stayed in his place as cool fingertips brushed along the left side of his face. Jojen's face was soft and his eyes far away like he was day dreaming.

_Wow, he doesn't even know he's doing that I mind of course._ He was definitely liking the look Jojen was giving him; like he was seeing Bran and seeing something else at the same time. But his cheeks were turning pink from all of this.

Jojen blinked and pulled his hand back, his face red as rose. "Ah...um sorry about that. I, uh," he cleared his throat and Bran thought he couldn't look any cuter in that moment.

"It's okay, Jojen." Bran smiled sweetly up at him. "If I can hug you, you can randomly caress my face."

For some reason that made Jojen blush even harder. He looked down at his shoes and nervously chuckled.

"Well you have...nice skin, very soft." Jojen finally met his eyes.

"And you have nice shoulders. Perfect for my head." Bran put his hands on his wheels, pushing his chair back and forth. "Aren't we supposed to be going somewhere?"

Jojen let out a huff and nodded. "Right, lets go. I hope it isn't crowded at this time."

They started moving. Jojen paced his steps with Bran's wheels, his keys jingling by his hip.

Bran tried to watch Jojen and pay attention to where he was going and failing. He nearly ran into a girl and almost squished his hand between his wheels and a wall. That would have been painful. He would have cried.

"So where exactly are we going?"

"To a very special place for a very special Bran."

"Haha, very funny. Tell me."

Jojen shook his head and held the door open for Bran.

"You could have pushed the button."

Jojen shrugged. "Where's the fun in that? And I'm the perfect gentleman."

"We'll see about that."


	4. Chapter 4

Sansa waited by Jeyne's locker, staring at her chipped nail polish. She was going to have redo it. It wasn't cute to walk around with busted nails. Gods, that was just _wrong._

Ten minutes passed and still no sign of Jeyne. Sansa considered just texting her but ended up just staring at her phone in boredom.

The only reason why she was standing around Jeyne's ungodly locker was so she could tell her about Bran.

Better the truth come from her best friend instead of finding out later, right? Because what if she fell in love with Bran? Sansa can already picture Jeyne coming to her with tears in her eyes and a tub of ice cream, ready to sob on her shoulder over her gay little brother.

Jeyne came around the corner then, smiling with Margaery on her arm. Sansa thought they both looked really cute today. Jeyne's long, dark brown hair tied in braids, with a cute bow holding it all together and Margaery letting her hair fall in thick curls.

Jeyne saw her other red headed friend and smiled in shock. "Sansa! What a surprise!" Jeyne cheered.

Sansa smiled at her two best friends. "Yes, yes, the queen is here."

"Oh, shut up, I'm the queen," Margaery said, folding her arms and stomping her foot.

"You're head _is_ big enough for the crown," Sansa teased.

They both laughed.

"But, really, you're usually long gone," Jeyne said while opening her creaky locker. "What's up?"

"Well," Sansa drawled. "I need to tell you something. And you need to believe me."

Jeyne's eyebrows furrowed and she gave the red haired girl a strange look. "Okay...?"

Sansa took a deep breath. Do it quickly. Like ripping off a band aid. "Bran's not into you."

Jeyne's eyebrows shot up. "W-what?"

"That's random," Margaery mumbled.

"Well it's true. I'm sorry, I really, really am. But he's...not into...girls." Sansa felt a little bad about spreading Bran's business (also because she wasn't 100 percent sure) but she didn't want her best friend to get hurt.

"I knew it," Margaery said. "Poor boy never had a girlfriend, never even looked at a girl. Even though he is at perfect eye level to all the girls butts."

Sansa glared at her. "Not helping, Margaery."

"Sorry." She didn't look sorry.

Jeyne made a frustrated sound. "Sansa what are you talking about? Why are you telling me that Bran's gay?"

She gave her bestfriend a look that said please-stop-talking-and-just-listen. "Because you like him and I don't want you getting hurt." What part of that didn't she understand?

"Sansa...I," she sighed. "I don't like Bran. If I liked any of your brothers it would be Robb. He's hot and has a beard."

"Small beard," Margaery mumbled. "Rickon's a sweetheart. I'd wait for him."

Sansa, momentarily disturbed by what she just heard, frowned deeply. "Wait, you don't have feelings for Bran?"

Jeyne shook her head. "No. He's not really my type"

"It's the wheelchair. If he weren't in it, would you?"

Jeyne looked flustered and probably a little embarrassed. "Honestly, no. He's weird and quiet. Plus, he's a sophomore. Sure he's cute, but, he seems just, I dunno, strange.."

Margaery lifted a finger. "It is called gaydar, my dear."

Sansa let out a relieved sigh. "Well what the fuck? Why did I think you had a crush on someone?" Sansa laughed.

"I do..." Jeyne blushed.

Sansa stopped laughing. "Who? Spill. Now."

Margaery gripped Jeyne's arm. "Who is it? Boy?" She wiggled her perfect eyebrows. "Girl?"

"Boy," she whispered shyly.

"Well who is it? We don't have all day!"

Jeyne looked at them both, a shy smile on her lips. "You can't tell anyone."

"Yes, yes, we _know."_

"Alright." She took a deep breath as if she were about to do the scariest thing in her life. "Jojen."

Sansa tried to hide the confused what-the-hell expression. Jojen? Like that was any better. She wasn't trying to sell Jojen short. But from what she's seen, Jojen's just was weird as Bran. Why was Jojen better than Bran?

Margaery fist pumped the air. "Ha, ha, I knew it!"

"What do you mean _you knew_?" Jeyne looked even redder, if that was possible.

"I saw you giving him the eye in first hour."

Jeyne covered her face with her hands. "I'm so embarrassed! Do you think he saw?"

Margaery shook her head. "Gods no. He was way too into whatever he was writing."

"Hold on," Sansa broke her silence. "Why do you have a thing for him?"

Jeyne's big brown eyes were _melting_ as she speaks about him. "He's _mega _cute and has the most beautiful green eyes in the whole world. His voice is _glorious_. And he likes to write so I bet he's romantic. And he smells good. And that blond hair...yeah." Jeyne's face was so red she looked like a cherry.

Margaery shook her head and was giving Jeyne a sympathetic look. "Girls got it bad."

"Is that smart? Jojen looked pretty comfortable wrapped around Bran." The blond looked especially happy when Bran rested his head on his shoulder.

Jeyne sighed. "I know. Why does this happen to me?"

By that she meant _Why do I always like the gay boys? _Jeyne had this problem with liking all the guys who were irrevocably unobtainable. Like Jojen Reed. Like Loras Tyrell.

She did like guys that weren't gay but completely uninterested in her. Like Robb. And she even had a thing for Gendry, because he's, in her words, ruggedly handsome and those blue eyes just speak to her heart strings, or some shit like that.

Sansa just shrugged. "You like well groomed guys, not your fault they're mostly always gay."

Jeyne's head hung. "Forever. Alone."

Sansa met Margaery's eyes and they nodded. They hugged Jeyne's skinny body and cooed in her ear. "It'll be fine. You'll find the perfect man," and Margaery added, "or girl."

"Thanks," she muttered. "Let's go." Jeyne and Margaery left and Sansa slowly followed them she was in no rush since her dad was going to be a bit late.

She sat alone at the front stairs, absently picking at her nails. It wasn't even five minutes before someone came to bug her. Someone she wasn't expecting.

"Hey, little bird."

Sansa lifted her head at the gruff voice. Sandor stood a few away from her. One of his large hands was stuffed in his jacket pocket while the other was hanging limply at his side. The breeze shifted his hair away from the scarred side of his face and he hastily moved to fix it.

She didn't know what to say to him. Hi Sandor? How's it going? Beat up any kids today?

He seemed fine to continue. "You see Joffrey? Need to give the little shit a ride home," he started to step closer to her. With every step, her heart would pound erratically.

It took her a minute to concentrate. Sandor couldn't just show up out of nowhere after being gone all day. He couldn't just ask her questions like they were friends and call her boyfriend a little shit and stand in front of her like they were cool. Like, who the Fuck are you?

"No, he didn't show up at my locker after school." _Not that I was at my locker myself._ Sansa leaned back to be able to look the tall guy in the face. He was frowning, like always.

"Fuck that prick," he growled, looking at the sky like it just took a shit on his day.

"Why don't you quit?"

He glared at her, the right side of his face crumpled in agitation. "Fuck would I do that? It pays well, even though the kid is a nasty little bitch all the time."

"You always have the best names for him." Sansa smiled a bit. "Reminds me of my sister."

Sandor grunted like a pissed wild animal. Jeez, this guy was just pulsing with anger. Sansa could feel the heat rolling off his skin. He gave a disdainful look over his shoulder before moving to sit next to her.

Sansa adjusted her bag, feeling almost uncomfortable but not quite sure what it was she was feeling. She remembered how Sandor called her little bird and color stained her cheeks.

"Why are you here so late?"

That shocked her. He was actually making normal conversation with her for once. _This_, she thought, _will probably end horribly. _But despite that she replied back anyway,

"My dad had some appointment that ran late or some bullshit." Sansa made herself feel awkward at the fact that this was the first time they've been alone together.

"Why are you alone? You're usually with all those screeching girls or your shitty siblings."

Sandor noticed her? Well, of course he did. She _was_ the cutest girl in school. But she didn't think that was it. She felt a fluttering feeling in her stomach, and it wasn't cramps. She really wasn't surprised that Sandor would ruin that observation by being an ass.

"My _friends_ are all gone. And I have no idea where Arya and Bran are."

Sandor huffed disdainfully. "I don't like the cripple boy. Always runs over my feet."

"Then get out of his way. His chair isn't going to shrink," she snapped.

Sandor glared at her for a long time. "You're a real bitch, you know that?"

Sansa's face flushed with anger. "No one asked you to talk to me." She gathered her things and stood. She planned on walking away and waiting at the curb, but she already saw her dad's truck about to turn.

"Wait. I didn't mean it like that. Jeez, don't get your panties in a bunch."

Sansa was still annoyed. _Didn't mean it like that, my ass. And my _panties _are fine. _She glared at him from over her shoulder. "Then what did you mean?"

Sandor opened his mouth to say something but looked over his shoulder as Arya came out the school. He closed his mouth as she walked passed. Arya gave him a dirty look and stood next to Sansa.

"What's the Hound doing just standing there?" She asked but really didn't seem to care. "Weird asshole."

Ned drove up and waited for his kids to get in. The sounds of the radio drifted towards them. It was just awful.

"Just get in." Sansa hissed under her breath.

"Fine." Arya sulked in the passenger seat, without a fight for the first time ever.

Sansa didn't question why Arya was so compliant. She probably did it so she wouldn't have to fight for the seat. She looked back at Sandor expectantly.

"You're alright, little bird."

Sansa felt a shocked smile replace her frown.

"Sansa! Get your ass in the car!"

Fuck, Arya. Stupid little sister. She glared at her horsefaced sister. Arya just flipped her off.

Sandor was already walking away when Sansa looked back at him. She wanted to know why he said that, especially right after calling her a bitch.

She got in the truck, flicking away crumbs Rickon most likely left behind.

"Who was that young man?" Her father asked as he pulled out the parking lot. He was looked at Sansa with a knowing smile.

Sansa flushed. "He's...no one really."

Arya scoffed. "She right. He's just a guy." She snorted. "No, more like a hound." Then she started to growl and it was a sound Sansa wasn't expecting to fear.


	5. Chapter 5

The car ride was awkward to say the least.

Bran tried to look everywhere but at Jojen. When he did look over at the blond he was reminded by how short he was. But Bran kind of liked it. He didn't have to crane his neck up so high to look at him.

He also was silent. _What am I supposed to say? _He's never been alone in a car with a boy before. Especially not an attractive boy he had a massive crush on.

But he wasn't even sure if he was into Jojen because of the dreams, or if he would be into him if Jojen was just a random guy and not this guy he's literally been dreaming about.

Bran thought he would be either way.

And the dreams. Bran really needed to ask about those.

Jojen tapped his fingers against the wheel to the beat of the song. Jojen's car was so old it only had a cassette deck, but by the overflowing amount of tapes sitting in the back, Jojen was well equipped. Bran didn't know what was playing but the lyrics were moody and sad and Jojen would whisper them and smile.

"Have you been over by the bridge before?" Jojen asked as he turned the corner. One hand was on the wheel and the other on the gear.

Bran watched as the houses went by. The houses around here were smaller but not ugly. Small children ran around, being loud and happy, while other people walked their dogs. It was the perfect Hallmark moment.

Bran, along with everyone else at school, knew the bridge was just this place for teenagers to smoke pot and tag graffiti. So no, Bran has never been. He had no idea why Jojen was so charmed by this place. But as they drove, Bran didn't see the telltale rabid cats scratching civilians or the drugged up teenagers.

Well shit. This place was pretty normal.

"No, just heard about it."

Jojen nodded. "Oh. So you probably think everyone around here is pumped with drugs and swimming in poverty." Jojen looked at him from the corner of his eye, smirking.

"Yep. And that mortality rates go back to the Stone Age." Bran smirked at him, taking in the blonds profile. Jojen was even cuter at this angle, especially with that crooked smile.

"Well, what you've heard is mostly lies."

Bran chuckled. "That's unfortunate. What about the truth?"

They were stopped at a stop light. A painfully long stop light. "The truth is only what you want to see. Open your eyes Bran."

He just stared at him, his head tilted to the side. Jojen turned his head and met his eyes unblinkingly. They stared at each other for a long time. Bran felt a smile tug at his lips. "Are you always so cryptic?"

"Yep," Jojen nodded. "Gonna have to get used to it."

"I think I can do that." The light turned green and Bran leaned back in his seat. He liked the way Jojen's car smelled, old leather and coffee and air freshener. He played with the tear in his jeans and listened to the music.

Yeah, he could get used to a lot of things.

They drove in silence until Jojen made a sharp and unexpected turn left. Bran grabbed the _oh shit_ bar and glared at the blond.

"Sorry." Jojen wasn't sorry. That bastard. He was laughing.

"You did that on purpose," Bran accused.

"So sue me. We're here."

They pulled up to an old two story bookstore covered in thick green vines like a second skin. The only way anyone could tell that this place was a bookstore was because the big ass sign that said _bookstore_. It was standing between two other ordinary buildings with nothing but stone separating them.

Bran gave Jojen a questioning look. "Really?"

"Don't give me that look." Jojen got out and walked around to the back seat, ignoring Bran ("What look?") he opened the door and pulled Bran's wheelchair out, banging it against the side on accident. He even made a sad face at Bran after it happened.

"Careful! He's fragile." His face reddened in embarrassment. He should just sew his mouth shut because nothing he ever says makes him feel like less of an idiot.

Jojen paused, his pretty green eyes meeting Bran's through the right side mirror. "He?"

Bran blushed. "Um...I-well...my chair has a name. And a gender. We've become friends." _Why the _fuck _do I keep talking? All I'm doing is making myself look like a total loser._

Jojen chuckled and shook his head and didn't look put off by his eccentricities. "He gets a face full of your ass all day, you'd better be friends." He sat the chair upright and opened the passenger door. "Need help getting into...?"

"Mr. Wheely." He flushed and unbuckled his seatbelt. "Don't judge me. I know it's lame, but it's short for The Extreme Chair of Wheely Power." He bit his lip and shook his head in shame. It wasn't like he wanted to tell him that, but he just couldn't stop talking even though he knew he sounded stupid. Jojen just opened him up like that for some reason.

Jojen leaned against the back of the chair on his forearms. "Explain."

Bran quickly looked away. That was exactly what he didn't want to do. But he did it anyway because Jojen wanted to know. "Rickon named it, actually. And no, I don't need help. I learned to adjust," he said as he moved to get in the chair. "If you don't then you're pretty fucked."

"Are you one with the chair-Mr. Wheely?" Jojen came up behind him and started to push him to the entrance, trying not to laugh.

"We've bonded in a way no one can understand," he said.

"Well, I'm jealous."

"If you were a wheelchair I'd sit on you all day." That's what Bran called flirting. Run away from it if you can.

"Don't need to be a chair for that." Jojen smirked and pulled the door open for him, letting Bran go first. "Told you I'm the Perfect Gentleman."

"Mhm, sure. So that's what you're calling this." Bran absently looked around the place. It looked like a regular bookstore, filled with books old and new. It smelled like one too. He didn't see why this place was so special.

"I bet you're thinking this place is lame and I'm a total loser." Jojen muttered, his fingers tapping against the upper bars on his chair. Bran could feel the vibrations at his back. It felt nice.

"Read my mind," he joked. He looked back at Jojen when he didn't say anything. Jojen was biting the inside of his cheek, looking disappointed. Bran's smile fell like someone smacked it off his face. "I was joking."

"Oh," Jojen chuckled awkwardly, his hand coming up to rub at his nape. "I'm a dumbass."

Bran smiled and reached out to grab the hand that wasn't nervously carding through his hair. Jojen looked down at their joined hands in shock. Bran did the same.

There must have been a reason to why every time they had contact it felt like some bizarre current was flowing through them, sparking recognition and something deeper between them. Whatever it was, Bran definitely approved of it.

_But why did I do that? Why did I-wait, hold up. Is Jojen blushing?_ Bran started to grin because, yes, Jojen Reed was blushing. He was completely adorable. Bran's never seen someone look so cute and, well, blushy.

_At least I'm not the only one who blushes,_ he thought. He squeezed Jojen's hand and said, "Come on, Jojen, show me why this place is so great."

..o..o..o..

Jojen left him in the back and told him to wait there. Bran just rolled his eyes and shooed him off. Then the blond ran off somewhere saying he was going to get something.

Bran was so staring at Jojen's butt when he ran away. Cute butt. Looks very firm. He'd like to touch.

He just sat there in the back of the bookstore in the little sitting area by the non-fiction, rolling his chair back and forth. Hey, at least they could be alone. Which was odd because he didn't see anyone else in the store at all, not even behind the register or hidden between the bookshelves. This place was empty.

A trickle of worry begun to seep in. It's almost been ten minutes since Jojen left; Bran was staring at the clock on the wall. What if this was a trap? What if Jojen knew about Bran dreaming about him and didn't want people dreaming about him so now he's going to come back with a chainsaw and cut off-

Jojen did come back, but in his hands was two non-descript coffee cups and not a deadly weapon.

Bran calmed down mid unnecessary panic attack and took the hot coffee that was handed to him. Delicious mocha smells drifted to his nose and he beamed at Jojen. He didn't question where he got the coffee from, 'cause really, who questions free coffee?

"I love mochas," he told him after he sipped on it and then set it down on the small side table.

Jojen looked pleased with himself. "I know."

"What else do you know?"

"I know many things about you, Bran." Jojen sat down next to him in one of the squishy brown leather chairs. "I know that you hate the thunder because it hurts your ears, and that you hate romantic movies because they're predictable and shitty. And that for your thirteenth birthday you got all these homemade sweaters from Old Nan, and they're all horrendous but you still wear them because you like the way they smell."

Bran smiled because all of that was true. "How do you know that?"

Then Jojen gave him this look, the kind of look where someone is looking into the very depths of your soul, or maybe just edging around it. Bran wanted to look away but he resisted and met his gaze head-on, even if he felt slightly awkward and self conscious. He didn't know what Jojen could possibly be seeing.

Suddenly Jojen was really close and still getting closer. Jojen's slender fingers, tangled in the hair at the back of his neck, prevented him from escaping, but Bran wasn't planning on moving away.

"You dream of me, too, Bran. I know you do. I saw it when we met for the first time. But you have to know that it's more than that. It's our past. Our future." Jojen bit his lip, something Bran thought should be illegal in every country. "I wanted to do this better but..." he shook his head.

"What?" Bran was glad they were finally going to talk about the dreams. Jojen seemed to know a ton more about it than him.

"Would you really have kissed me that day, or was I just seeing shit?"

Well _fuck_. That was not what Bran expected him to say. His mind went blank and he sort of just sat there staring, flailing inside. _Uhhh...what do I say to that? _Jojen made him look him in the eye so Bran was forced to stare into his bright green eyes, and that definitely wasn't helping him since everytime he looked into Jojen's eyes his brain shut down. He couldn't help it; those green eyes were gorgeous.

He blinked and remembered that Jojen had asked him something. He thought back to-fuck yesterday, and the moment where he had almost kissed Jojen. He blushed uncontrollably. "My brain talked me out of it."

Jojen licked his lips and Bran lost his breath a little. He should not do that either!

"Would you kiss me now?"

_Ha! That was a stupid question_. Hell yes he would kiss him. He was already leaning forward, choosing to show Jojen rather than tell him.

Kissing was weird. Lips felt weird. They didn't really taste like anything either. But Jojen's lips were warm and felt nice against his. Soft, compliant. And they kissed back immediately, with Jojen's hands cupping his face with his hands and his thumbs caressing his cheeks.

When they kissed something clicked and all those dreams came rushing back, but with the actual feel and taste of Jojen's lips. Kissing Jojen felt familiar but foreign at the same time, like riding a bike after years of not doing so. He felt nervous but comfortable. A warm surge of somethinglike electricity shot through him and he felt his breath hitch and the hair at the back of his neck stand up.

He supposes sometime he parted his lips but he couldn't be sure when. He was just breathing against Jojen's lips, his hands clutching Jojen's shirt, feeling his heart pounding in his chest.

And then Jojen did something strange. He started breathing in the air Bran was exhaling, like it was his only source of air. Bran had no choice but to do the same. Their lips were just barely touching, warmed and almost kiss swollen, and they just _breathed_ together. There was something incredibly intimate about that.

Jojen's breath tasted like the coffee they drank and Bran supposed his did too.

Their eyes met, green to blue, and it was like seeing each other for the first time but in a new light.

"Jojen?"

"Yes, Bran?" His fingers wiggled in Bran's soft hair, now placed against the back of his neck and gently touching his skin.

With all the seriousness he could muster he asked, "Doyouget_those_dreamsaboutmetoo?" He couldn't of failed harder if he tried. Actually, no, he probably could have. He felt warm with embarrassment and the anxiety of asking someone if they ever dream of fucking him. He really didn't know how he was holding himself together so well. His insides felt like they were about to burst out of his body.

Jojen started to smirk and he gave Bran a highly amused look with his head tilted to the side. "Excuse me?"

Shit. He wished Jojen just understood him. Or if they could communicate via telepathic link. Man, that would be _so_ fucking cool. But seeing as they didn't he had to do this the old fashioned way.

He let out a deep breath and started over. "Do you...have dreams about me...dreams that aren't, uh, strictly PG?" The type of dreams with sex even HBO couldn't show.

Jojen's eyebrows shot up and his smirk fell, leaving him looking dumbstruck. His face flushed bright red and he looked away. Bran could feel the heat of embarrassment roll off of him too. He probably should have brought that up on a different day. Maybe after they've known each other more than two days. Maybe four would have been better.

"Sorry, did I make this even more awkward than necessary? I was just wondering if I'm a huge pervert or if it was mutual." Bran mumbled, ducking his head. He wanted to die.

"No," Jojen mumbled back. "I, uh, get those too." He awkwardly cleared his throat. For someone who was so into deep staring, Jojen wouldn't even look at him now.

Bran felt laughter bubble up and he let it out, laughing so hard his head fell back. His laughter must have been contagious because he heard Jojen's laughter follow his. They just sat there laughing for maybe five minutes, tears leaking out the corner of their eyes and sounding hysterical. This entire situation was just so odd and they both didn't really know how to deal with it.

Laughter always works. You could count on laughter.

"Jojen," Bran started to say after his laugh attack subsided, but he honestly didn't know what to say. He wanted to ask so many things but all he could think about now was sex. Well, more than he normally did. He started laughing again. "Oh my gods, Jojen, I can't think now."

The blond was still slightly red, from both laughing and most likely thinking about sex. "Yeah, same. Everytime I try to think of something to say…" he shook his head like something kept distracting him.

Bran put his hand on Jojen's because he liked the way they felt. He bet they would feel really good on his body. See? There he goes, thinking about sex. He couldn't help it, he was a teenager. "With a blush like that, I must be killer in the sheets. At least we know we're both huge perverts. I won't hide my perversions if you don't."

Jojen smiled and shook his head, looking at Bran in wonder. "You're taking this well. Why aren't you freaking out?"

He shrugged. "I don't know...I happen to like the dreams you're in. They're better than my usual dreams. I mean, I still think all of this might be a super long vivid dream, but…" he felt himself shrugging again and he looked into Jojen's eyes. "I guess we'll figure out what this all means someday."

"Bran?" Jojen said somewhat hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm in love with you," he said matter-of-factly, not even looking embarrassed or nervous. He made it seem like he was commenting on the weather or something mundane like that.

_Holy fuck, how many times is he going to make me speechless in one day?_ Bran was yet again just sitting there staring, flailing inside. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? He didn't think he was in love with Jojen, not yet at least. So he just sat there and hoped Jojen understood that his awkward as fuck silence wasn't because he was freaked out (well, just a little) but because he didn't know how to respond to that.

The blond just rolled his eyes and took a sip out of his coffee that was probably lukewarm. "Don't panic, I know it's too soon for you. Just letting it out there for my own sake. You can breathe now."

Bran hadn't even realized he stopped breathing when he exhaled. He let out a shaky laugh. "Too soon for me?"

"Well, you've only gotten the dreams for about..what, six months? And I've been getting them for nine years. So yeah, way too soon."

Bran gaped and it was most likely highly unattractive. "Holy shit. Nine years? How are you sane?" He shook his head in amazement. "I think I need a nap."

"Do you want me to take you home?" Jojen asked but it was obvious he really didn't want to. Or maybe that was Bran just projecting his feelings onto him. Either way the answer was the same.

"What? No! Tell me more about these dreams of ours, love," he winked and smiled.

Jojen smiled and laughed, ducking his head. Gods, he was so attractive. Bran wanted to reach over and kiss him. So he did. And he must have taken Jojen by surprise because the boy gasped and almost dropped his coffee. Bran smiled at the effect he had on him when he pulled away. Jojen was a little pink and a lot flustered.

"Hey, Jojen," Bran waited until Jojen was looking at him. "Don't worry about the love thing, 'cause I'm totally falling for you."

And then Jojen gave him probably the largest smile he's ever seen and it made him the happiest person alive.


End file.
